


Unbound but Unbroken

by tulomne



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Gen, Jedi Exile Shmi, MOSTLY about Anakin & Shmi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 13:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9274865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tulomne/pseuds/tulomne
Summary: This is the story about the Force, and those who attempt to live alongside it.This is about a woman who held so much of it in her hands that it couldn’t be contained within one person.This is the story about two people entwined so deeply that they couldn’t exist apart from one another.I’m getting ahead of myself.[Teen and up for Star Wars typical violence]





	

**Author's Note:**

> I came across a concept sketch of Shmi with a lightsaber and my mind just jumped to conclusions

This is the story about the Force, and those who attempt to live alongside it. This is about a woman who held so much of it in her hands that it couldn’t be contained within one person. This is the story about two people entwined so deeply that they couldn’t exist apart from one another.

I’m getting ahead of myself.

 

This is the story of a boy who isn’t ready to become a man. A padawan who isn’t ready to become a knight.

The days after Qui-Gon Jinn’s passing are hard. Obi-Wan Kenobi is thrown from padawan and student to knight and mentor in a matter of days. Without his former Master, he feels lost. Jedi must not mourn, must not fear loss, but Obi-Wan cannot keep himself from grieving. Meanwhile, the Jedi Council keeps their distance. Any concerns he brings to them of his new padawan fall upon deaf ears. It seems Qui-Gon’s word is the only thing he can hold to. He stumbles through the next few years, left to train a boy he doesn’t necessarily believe should walk among the Jedi. But Qui-Gon was _so_ sure. Sure enough to have it be his last dying wish for Obi-Wan to take him under his wing. So Obi-Wan obeys his Master’s last command.

But Obi-Wan _isn’t_ sure. He feels like he was tossed into the epilogue of a story he didn’t get to read. All that time on Tatooine he spent away from the decisions that led Qui-Gon to take in the boy. He knows he will do what his Master asked of him, but he needs answers.

 

So he goes back. Without the Council’s approval and without mention to his young padawan. He steps out onto the scorched land under the twin suns and tries to find a woman he’s never met to give him answers to the questions he doesn’t know how to ask. _Why him? Why me?_

The mother isn’t there. He searches the town from dawn to dusk. There’s no trace of Shmi Skywalker. Obi-Wan is on his way back to his ship that night when she crosses his path on the outskirts of town.

She’s nothing like what he expected. Sharp eyes and worn skin and strength like the core of Tatooine. She says nothing, but Obi-Wan knows it’s her. And there’s something about her stance, the frame of her body against the too-bright moon in the sky, that says she’s more than just Anakin’s mother. His head swarms with questions. She smiles.

Shmi invites him into her home with a knowing look. _Her_ home. Slave no more, free of the chains that had bound her for so long. There’s something familiar about her, but Obi-Wan can’t put his finger on it. He mentions this. She makes him tea and lights candles and sits him down before explaining why.

 

This is the story of Shmi Skywalker, Jedi Knight.

This is about how she walked the halls of Coruscant with Master Qui-Gon and _yes that’s how you know me Obi-Wan, I was always there_. This is how she was born on Tatooine but never spent more than a few months there until she was whisked away from the Outer Rim. How she grew up learning the ways of the Force, that she was so strong with it that she was almost bursting at the seams. But she listened to her Master and she learned to control it, never asking more of it than was absolutely necessary. She learned that the Force was hungry and it could gobble up young padawans if they weren’t careful. Shmi was careful. She was so, so, careful.

This is the story of a Jedi who did everything right.

For Jedi do not take from the Force. Jedi move as the Force wills them. Jedi follow the easy currents of the Force on its surface, never once trying to dive deeper, to seek what’s there. Shmi Skywalker took all that power, all that raw potential and bottled it up, just as she was taught.

But the Force had other plans. The Force found other ways to get around the walls that Shmi put up. And so the Force created life.

This is the story of a woman who was abandoned. This is the story of a man who tried to make things right.

The Jedi Council never fully approved of Qui-Gon. The man never outright defied them, but he always toed the edge. Just enough to set them uneasy. They certainly didn’t approve of him spending so much time with one of their prized Jedi knights. But Shmi and Qui-Gon were close. They shared their frustrations for the Order and visited the padawans together and talked about what they might be able to do for the next generation to make it better.

And sometimes, when it was late at night and no one was around to see, they’d do the things that Jedi were forbidden to do. Innocent gestures, soft touches, holding each other close under the moonlight on the balcony of the temple. Little things that kept them grounded under an order which wanted nothing more than to distance themselves from these kinds of connections. But how could they protect what is good and innocent when they no longer knew what those things were like? Jedi are told to trust their feelings, and Qui-Gon and Shmi’s told them that little reminders like these were what kept them doing what’s right.

And then Shmi was with child and Qui-Gon was to blame. Because Shmi didn’t know how to explain what had happened to her, and she couldn’t give an answer that would satisfy her accusers. She begged the Council to understand, that it was truly a blessing of the Force, not her own betrayal, that had granted her with a child, but they refused.

And Qui-Gon fought for her. And Qui-Gon lost.

This is the story of a Jedi, cast away on falsities and cursed to a life of poverty.

Shmi was exiled, gave birth to dear Anakin on Tatooine, and felt that ravenous hunger of the Force subside and calm as soon as her son left her body. She was weak, she was poor, and she fell into slavery.

And years later, when Qui-Gon returned, promising a better life for her son, how could she say no? Even if it meant bringing him back to the world that cast her out so easily?

And Qui-Gon promised to raise him. And Qui-Gon failed.

The story finishes and Obi-Wan has a lot to think about. Shmi urges him not to tell Anakin, that it would only cause the boy to return to Tatooine and that part of his life is _over_. So Obi-Wan returns to Coruscant with more questions than answers.

 

This is the story about a boy who grew up scared, and his Master who led with doubt.

Because this guilt consumes Obi-Wan, having to answer every question of Anakin’s with _no, I never knew her_ and _I’m sorry, but you can’t visit_ and _it’s best to move on_. He fears that his emotions will betray his efforts to follow both his Master and Shmi’s wishes. He knows he can say nothing of this to the Council. For speaking about Shmi would mean admitting he acted selfishly, that he let his fear for Anakin’s future guide him. No, it’s better to stay silent.

But that’s not the only problem. When Anakin begins his training, it awakens something deep inside Shmi. Her powers grow, despite the distance she tries to keep with the Force. It’s something she’s all too familiar with.

She knows the Force has a deadly undercurrent. And Shmi held so much of it that it was always on the edge, ready to pull her under at any moment. Her life up until Anakin’s birth she spent learning how to keep her head above water. She knew how to hold back. Her son did not.

Because Anakin has always been afraid. Afraid of loss and the unknown. Afraid of being powerless. These feelings corrupt his thoughts, mixed with her growing power, so far away. He begins to have visions. And he tells the Council, and they tell him to let go, but it’s all he can think about. He fears the worst.

 

This is the story of a boy who loved his mother.

Anakin is on Tatooine, desperate, frantically searching for Shmi. The visions of his mother dying plague his mind, blinding him. He traverses the desert, leaving Padme behind at the ship. He finds the village of Tusken Raiders. The one he’s seen in his dreams. But his mother is nowhere to be found. Frustrated, alone, angry at the fact that he may never see his mother again, his grief turns to rage.

He returns to Padme, bloodsoaked and sobbing, saying that his mother died in his arms. Is it a lie if the speaker thinks it true? His visions have blinded him to reality. He sees only what his nightmares tell him. And far away from town, Shmi falls to her knees.

Since the events with the Raiders, Shmi stays in the shadows. She had gotten reckless, calling out to the Force like a long lost friend. But Anakin had answered that call and he had suffered because of it. Sometimes it’s best to just stay silent. But the Force is hungry and so it consumes Anakin, still pulling on Shmi as well, like an addiction she can’t quit.

 

This is a story about a war that tore a galaxy apart.

As the years pass, Obi-Wan’s encounter on Tatooine falls to the back of his mind. His thoughts are crowded with concern of the Republic’s fate. Jedi were never meant to be soldiers, nonetheless generals. But Anakin and Obi-Wan take the places they’re assigned, and they do all they can, despite the growing darkness surrounding Obi-Wan’s former padawan.

And as the Force pulls Anakin into its depths, hollowing him from the inside out, it scrapes at the remains of Shmi, pulling her apart piece by piece. She can’t avoid the Force anymore. It’s pulsing in her veins, amplifying itself as Anakin grows stronger, light years away from her.

Shmi finds herself speaking aloud to Qui-Gon. Maybe it’s the familiar presence in the air, or the creeping idea that he hasn’t truly left this world, but she finds that she can’t stay silent anymore. And eventually, after what feels like far too long, he answers.

It’s cold that night, when he appears outside her doorway under the burning light of the moon. She finds herself unable to speak, smile only appearing after he’s spoken.

 _I’ve missed you_. The feeling is mutual. She had felt it, when he left the world of the living. Standing on her own, far from anyone she’s ever loved, she had felt truly alone. She asks after Anakin, after Obi-Wan, sure that Qui-Gon must know what she cannot see, but she finds that he cannot provide the clarity she needs.

How does she know what’s right? Does she intervene? Does she stay away? What is her role in her son’s life anymore, now that he belongs to something she can no longer take part in? Qui-Gon reaches out, resting his hand on her face. She can’t feel him anymore, and she longs for the time when things like this could ground her, make her feel whole.

_Trust your feelings, my friend. You and I both know it’s what we must do._

By the time she opens her eyes, he’s gone again.

 

Things happen so fast, that last night on Coruscant. Obi-Wan has no time to think before he’s racing to Mustafar, hidden away in Padme’s ship, desperately hoping against hope that his friend, his brother, hasn’t fallen from grace the way he fears. Even after Anakin attacks, he prays that this is just a trick of his mind, that he’ll awake to find Coruscant not up in smoke.

It doesn’t even cross his mind what Shmi would think of all this until he finds her stepping down one of Mustafar’s craggy cliffs, headed towards her son. And Anakin pauses, only momentarily. Because he still remembers holding her dead body in his arms. He still allows his fears to shape the way he sees the past and present, and he determines that this must be another trick of the Jedi Order. Because if he admits that she’s real, he’d have to admit to far worse truths.

_Liar!_

Anakin continues his attack on Obi-Wan. Shmi makes her way towards him, like an executioner does to the gallows. Her lightsaber glows, bright white against the dark of the lava rock, and perhaps she always knew it would end like this. Suddenly Anakin is fighting a battle on two fronts, lashing out at both of his attackers. Shmi always blocks, never attacks, using the Force to shift his swings out of the way at the last moment. The mysterious power paws at the Skywalkers, both of them beckoning to it from opposite sides of the battle.

It’s killing her, to see him like this. So blind with anger and hatred that he doesn’t even recognize his own mother, his best friend, crossing blades with him. He’s become just another product of the Jedi Order. Chewed up until he’s not as much as a shadow of his former self, and spat out when no longer of use. She had handed her child, her darling baby boy, to them in an attempt to bring him a better life, and they had snatched him up, picked him apart, and thrown him away.

She’s not here to punish her son. She’s not here to act as the Jedi Order, destroying one of their own after they’ve corrupted them beyond repair. She’s here as Anakin’s mother, and she knows what she has to do, something that the Order would never think to do. Because the Order doesn’t understand that Obi-Wan will never be able to kill Anakin. They don’t understand the bonds that are created within their temple walls, these passions that the Order would rather have them forget. If Shmi had only the chance to tell her son that these things are what makes them great, makes them kind and caring and _good_ , things would have been so different.

Anakin swings his saber, and it slashes across Shmi’s body. A shock rips through his system, and the Force that had been obscuring the undeniable familiarity that is Shmi falls away.

He screams, sudden realization of what he has just done freezing him to the spot. Obi-Wan slices into Anakin, feeling a painful clench in his gut, a horrid mix of grief and regret. He starts towards the two, but Shmi tells him to go. Padme is safe on the ship, Shmi had made sure of that, but she won’t survive if she gives birth here. After a last glance back at the two, Obi-Wan leaves, tears streaming down his face.

The Force is gone, drained from the two, left like empty shells baking in the heat of the lava surrounding them. Slowly, shakily, Shmi pulls Anakin into her lap. She brushes the hair from his face and tells him that _everything will be alright_. His tears burn at his charred skin, but not for long.

 

Years from now, under a setting sky on the warm shores of Naboo, a mother will tell a story to her children about the Force. A story about two sides of the same coin. An exile who never asked for redemption, and a boy who loved his mother.


End file.
